


Approval

by vilecrocodile



Category: Prey (Video Game 2017)
Genre: F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilecrocodile/pseuds/vilecrocodile
Summary: Morgan and Mikhaila discuss a troubling security breach.





	Approval

“Chief Ilyushin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mikhaila shuts the door carefully behind her before she speaks. “I spoke to Chief Elazar this morning.”

“Oh?” Morgan Yu glances up from her workstation.

“Apparently, Dr. Alex Yu's office was ransacked last night.”

“Was it really?” Morgan spins around in her chair, eyes theatrically wide with shock and brimming with sisterly concern. “How _terrible._ Do they know who did it?”

“No,” Mikhaila folds her arms. “But Chief Elazar also told me -”

“It really is troubling, you know, the kind of security breaches that go on on this station.”

“ - that she knows what it looks like when someone has sex on a desk. Morgan.”

“Did you ask her...” Morgan's face twitches with the effort of holding back laughter. “Did you ask her...if she knows that...from personal experience or...?”

“Of course not,” Mikahlia huffs, trying to keep her voice stern. “I hope you have satisfied your desire for petty revenge, at least.”

“Come on, babe,” Morgan rises from her seat and crosses the room in a single, fluid motion. “You can't tell me it wasn't good for you, too.”

The other woman stiffens in a valiant effort to maintain her resolve as Morgan leans in and whispers, “It _was_ good for you, wasn't it?”

Morgan's fishing for compliments, Mikhaila knows. She loves praise, gets off on it; Mikhaila's nearly brought her to orgasm before with just words, barely even having to touch her. There's probably some interesting psycho-sexual implications there, but that's not really her department.

“It _was_ amazing,” she sighs, relenting, and hears Morgan's breath catch. “You were amazing.”

“Mmm,” Morgan murmurs, her arms moving leisurely around Mikhaila's waist. “Anyone ever done it to you like that before?”

“Never,” she replies, and Morgan's grip on her tightens. Almost unconsciously, Mikhaila reaches up and slides her fingers into the hair at the nape of the other's neck. It's too good to resist, and when she's with Morgan she can never resist, can never quite stop herself from taking things just one step too far. She tightens her grip suddenly and hisses in her lover's ear, “No one has ever _fucked_ me like that before.”

Morgan actually moans into her shoulder at that.

It's weird, of course it is, Mikhaila thinks, weird that some nothing Russian girl can so easily stroke Morgan's ego into a frenzy, weird that Morgan seems to need that praise to perform. Considering her family and her upbringing, though, it's probably a miracle that Morgan isn't weirder. And Mikhaila can't deny the thrill she gets from Morgan – gorgeous, brilliant, unstoppable Morgan Yu – hanging on tetherhooks for her approval. It's terrifying, it's incredible, to be a sickly, middle-class, immigrant daughter, a greasy engineer, bringing one of the most powerful people in the world to her knees. The sensation coils in her chest, in her stomach, below that.

So maybe they're both weird. But, on the other hand, maybe they're both perfectly normal. It's really not her department.

“Mika...” She feels Morgan's breath on her neck, feels her hands rove, feels their intent. She squirms, she considers; she lifts Morgan's chin for a kiss, but when Morgan opens her mouth against hers, Mikhaila summons the remainder of her resolve and pulls away.

“Let's not,” she says. “I didn't come up here for a repeat performance.”

Morgan makes a disappointed noise in her throat, but she releases her and flops back into her desk chair.

“Tease,” she grumbles, but her eyes are so fond that Mikhaila hovers near, still caught in her orbit.

“Chief Elazar made me promise not to encourage you,” she says, as if she had not been doing exactly that, a moment ago. She's supposed to be the sensible one.

“Chief Elazar...” Morgan makes an exasperated face, wrinkling her nose. “Should mind her own business.”

Mikhaila shrugs, her lips twitching into a smile. “She is just doing her job.”

Morgan pivots in her chair and puts her feet up on her workstation, followed by a dramatic sigh and eye-roll, which is apparently what she thinks of people doing their job. Mikhaila laughs a little. Morgan really is cute, dangerously cute. She would never tell her so, of course: First she'd be offended, and then it would go straight to her head.

She moves behind her and, leaning over, presses a conciliatory kiss to her upturned forehead. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Yu.”

“Always a pleasure, Chief Ilyushin.”

She's halfway out the door when Morgan's comm suddenly rings. Mikhaila halts with one hand on the doorframe, and lifts an eyebrow as it rings again, shrilly. Morgan meets her eyes, and then glances away. It rings a third time.

“Are you going to answer that?”

Morgan taps a finger thoughtfully at her ear. “You think Elazar's explained it to him?”

“I think so.”

“What I would give to hear _that_ conversation.”

On the fourth ring, Alex forces the call through. Mikhaila takes a half-step backwards into the room, gripped by morbid curiosity. The Yu sibling arguments are infamous in Transtar. Some employees even kept a whiteboard tally.

“Hello?” Morgan says, and pauses, letting Alex's tinny tirade pour into the room. “Sorry...who is this?”

Mikhaila puts a hand to her mouth to stop her abrupt laughter, and Morgan winks at her as the tirade resumes. But after a while Morgan takes her feet off the table and turns her chair away, hunching over with a hand to her ear: her 'serious' pose.

“Come on, Alex, I was only....” Her smile fades; she begins to look weary. “Yes, but Alex, I...”

Mikhaila slips out the door and forces herself not to feel sorry for her: Morgan brought this on herself, after all. She does a quick check for other people coming down the hall, preparing an excuse in her mind in case she runs into anyone, and scurries back towards the Transtar lobby. Reckless, too reckless, she thinks. One of these days, that woman is going to get her fired.

Or worse.


End file.
